


Munich, a man, a farewell and an ending

by lahmsteiger_lover



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bayern München, Future Fic, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:39:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3421412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahmsteiger_lover/pseuds/lahmsteiger_lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future fic. Set in the year 2028, ten years after Philipp's retirement at FC Bayern as a player.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Munich, a man, a farewell and an ending

**Author's Note:**

> Well, the idea came to me during the holiday, and I could not resist writing it down.
> 
> I hope this story makes sense in some way. (I know I am not good at plotting LOL)
> 
> I did not know how I got the little smut in the story (I'm lying, because I'm the writer anyway). I tried my best not to put the scene off, but it was just me, so my apologies for it. I know many of you are not comfortable with these scenes, so if you are reading this, I have left a quite large space between the pre-slash and the scene, so you can identify it and ignore it if you want. I hope this is okay. :-)
> 
> And for last (I realize that I was talking nonsense), hope you enjoy the story. Mistakes are mine. And I really appreciate your feedback, so don't hesitate to comment. Thank you so much. :-)
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters in the story. Every incident in the fic is not real, and just happens in my imagination.

**From: Basti**

Hey Fips Manu is holdin a party on Friday, u comin?

**From: Basti**

Please? U won’t regret it, i swear.

**From: Basti**

It’s private. Just Manu, Thomas, me, you. Oh Timo is in too.

**To: Basti**

Alright I’m coming.

***

He looks at his phone and lets out a long sigh. Walking to the large glass window, he looks outside, tries his best to enjoy the view of Munich – the place he has attached to from the first day. Speaking of which, he feels the pain in his heart rise uncontrollably.

 _Every friendship has its end._ And his friendship with this place is going to an end soon.

He does not know if it will be temporary or permanent, the only thing in his mind at the moment is that he is leaving. On Sunday. Five days left.

It is 2028, fourteen years since his departure with the National Team, ten years since his goodbye as a player to FC Bayern. It has been that long, he has not even recognized that.

He suddenly feels old.

He hates admitting it. Of course he still jokes with his friend about him being like an old man, but seriously, it hurts more than he can imagine. It really hurts.

The funny thing is that it is not the only thing that hurts. As said above, he will have to leave his hometown, he is getting old, and his team is at the bottom of the chart. Burying his face into his palms, he lets out a small sob, his face goes red, and his body is shaking with depression. He hates it, he hates being weak. But he can’t hold it anymore.

He is the manager of FC Bayern Munich.

And he will soon become “was”.

***

It started like this:

Philipp Lahm, retired at Bayern in 2018, became the coach of the youth team in 2020, and got to be the manger of the first team in 2023. Won three continuous Bundesliga, a Champions League, got to the finals two times, and then everything fell.

The downfall started two years ago.

He did not know what he had done wrong: Was that the contented feeling after winning a C1 that led to over self-confident in the young players? Were those the arguments, the rumors on and off the pitch? Was that his style getting out of date?

And many, many more questions.

Philipp has suffered a lot of negative critics on his coaching style, on the club’s poor performance, on the unsettled arguments between the players. He has to take pills to get some sleep, even though the pills are destroying him. He has to bow his head, avoids everybody whenever he goes outside. He is afraid of every word slipping from people’s mouth, he always has the feeling that they aim to him.

He was given his last chance six months ago, at the start of the season. And after half of the year, nothing has gotten better. His team is at the top, but only when you rotate the table 180 degrees.

He laughs bitterly at his own joke, and feels like he is going to throw up. It is not the time for joking around.

After the time was up, the owner of the club decided that it was the best for both that Philipp left. They had a private meeting, and at those polite but not so kind words, he did not know what was more to do than nodded in exhaustion.

A press conference was held on the following day. The cameras were flashing at him, the recorders were running, the questions were suffocating him, the fans were yelling at him. His knuckles turned white, his face was pale as he tried his best to answer all the questions without slamming the table or storming out of the room. An hour was like eternity, and when the secretary said her final words as every coaching member left the room, he allowed himself to break down.

Everything is collapsing. So is he.

***

That’s why he is a little hesitated at Bastian’s text. His discomfort with parties has increased after loads of years, and the farewell party with the team and the staff two days ago still grossed him out.

But he knows he will still come. For Manu. For Thomas. For Timo.

For Basti.

***

If somebody asks Philipp, on the scale from one to ten, how important Bastian Schweinsteiger is to him, he will surely give his friend an eleven.

Basti has always been there for him, from the youth team to the first team, and now as a coach. His vice is his assistant now. It is like they cannot live without being next to each other, how romantic. But that’s the truth: they have always been a perfect duo – the captains of FC Bayern and Die Mannschaft, the ex-mangers of the second team, and now the coaches of the first team. He has always been the one to step first, then Basti will follow him.

It means that when he has to say his farewell to the club, Bastian is still in the coaching staff. But he does not want the younger man to follow this path of his. He does not want it, he wants his assistant to stay with the team until his retirement from football. It’s not logical: he must want Bastian to be like him, to step away, but he has never been a selfish man. He knows he just wants the best for the vice- no, the assistant.

He has always adored the friendship between his coaches at  the national team – Jogi and Hansi. He has always wondered how they could work everything out that easily, how they could be each other’s motivation at the worst times. His mind wanders back to the Ballon d’Or 2014 ceremony, when Jogi gave his speech to everybody, how the man’s eyes lit up with love, passion and hope, how he mentioned everybody proudly. Now he understands all of the coaching, and of the friendship (he prefers to call his “partnership”) between the manager and the assistant. Bastian Schweinsteiger has always been a wonderful friend like that.

He thinks he should give the younger man proper thanks.

(And, he does not really want to admit, but Bastian is something more than a long time friend, more than just his assistant.)

***

The cold wind is blowing on his face, making him shiver lightly. He sighs, rubs his forehead repeatedly, and takes a small sip from his pint.

He is standing at Manu’s balcony, enjoying the silence. The night was fine, he had some fun, and the Manuel-Thomas duo made him laugh truly for the first time in the week, forget every misery in a while. Drinks were served by Basti, whose fingers lingered a little too long on his hand when the beer was passed, or on his shoulder when they were sharing a laugh. He smiles, feeling a little silly and shakes his head, downs the rest of his pint in one gulp.

“Philipp?” The soft, low voice fills his ears. He turns around, faces the retired goalkeeper, and forces himself to smile. “Timo.”

“Are you alright?” Timo asks, his hand stroking Philipp’s arm in a friendly manner, and he just nods. “I’m fine, mate.”

The taller man nods, and Philipp can tell that Timo does not believe his words. He tries to change the topic, “How are you doing?”

Timo looks down at him, his eyes are warm and soft, and Philipp feels so small. “I’m okay, Phil. But I have to tell you that you are not good at lying, and changing the topic, too. Just like the Philipp I have always known.” He strokes Philipp’s hair, and Philipp is sure he can hear the laugh at his friend’s words. He blushes and punches Timo’s shoulder playfully. “Can’t you be a little less outspoken?”

“No.” They burst out laughing, and then everything goes silent again.

“Philipp.” Timo says, and he just turns to face his friend once again, confused. “You know that there are just two days left, right?”

Oh no, no, not now, not this. His muscles go tense at the older man’s words, and Timo must have sensed that as his gaze goes soft again. “Don’t be like that, I’m not talking about your flight or, your departure. Or, your goodbye.”

He is confused, really confused right now. What is Timo on about?

The other man just keeps on speaking. “You don’t have much time to be with Schweini,  you know. Don’t waste it.”

“What does Basti have to do with this?” He ignores the stinging sensation on his skin, feels his cheek go red at his best friend’s words.

“Oh, look at my shy friend being in love.” Timo laughs, sees Philipp go redder through times. “No, I’m serious. I know you two are close, and I don’t want you to hide from him, by standing here alone. The boy truly cares about you.”

“And you don’t?” Philipp tries to grin, and he knows he fails it miserably.

“I do, Phil. But after all those years, Basti is the one. I’m not being envious though.” The man smiles warmly at Philipp, and gets closer to give him a quick hug. “Let’s go, he must be waiting downstairs for you.”

He nods and follows.

***

Bastian is driving him home.

The drive is silent, and he feels weird. They can make jokes, but they are not doing it.

He looks at the younger man, tries to study every line of his face: his eyes, his nose, his lips, his freckles. He wants to remember his assistant, wants to capture that smile and fold it into his heart, securely keep it and look at it at night.

“Basti.”

He says when they are waiting at the traffic lights. The blonde turns to look at his face, and he finds himself in loss of words.

“I will miss you.”

He expects a laugh from his friend, and a small shove like “Don’t be girly, Fips!” on his shoulder, but nothing happens. Not really, because he can see Bastian’s eyes look at him with extremely softness, and some freckles appear around his eyes when he smiles at Philipp and keeps on driving, but no words slip from the man’s mouth and Philipp is worried.

They pulls on Philipp’s driveway a short time later, and Philipp still does not know what to say after the awkward moment in the car. Has he made a mistake?

They are standing at his doorstep, looking at each other in silence, and Philipp does not want to say goodbye. Just tomorrow and he will have to leave.

“Basti.” He tries again, “you are one of the best people I have ever met. And I will really, really miss you.”

Still no reactions.

“Okay, it’s late. I should get inside. Night, Basti.” He says, turns on his heels, feeling his eyes welling up with tears, when the blonde speaks up.

"No, Fips. Look at me. Please." Bastian is clasping his wrists tightly, the contact makes him feel dizzy. He wants to avoid, but the burning sensation on his neck urges him to look up, to face his assistant.

He does.

Their eyes meet, and there's that look on Bastian's face. The look of love and trust, with a small hint of sadness. The look that he has always fallen for, that he has always wanted to see until the end.

The taller man's hands slide beside his body, stop at his waist, hold a firm grip, burn at the contact. Their face is dangerously close now, and Philipp doesn't know how he should react. Bastian looks deeply into his eyes, searches for any signs of protest.

There aren't.

That's why he can feel Bastian's soft lips against his, lightly at first, tests his reaction. He does not reason anymore, just closes his eyes and lets himself melt in Bastian's arms. The taller man hugs him tightly, adds more pressure on the kiss, as he instinctively runs his hand through the other man's soft hair. And when the blonde's tongue touches his bottom lip gently, he slightly parts his lips, feels the sparks of emotions burst at the magic of Bastian.

Bastian tastes like beer but so sweet and addicting, and Philipp can't hold back the gasp escaping his lips, into his assistant's mouth and the other blonde just swallows it down, pulls him closer, sucks on his bottom lip playfully.

It's been too long since their last kiss, because Philipp has always been pushing Bastian away. He feels ashamed, he feels weak, and he thinks he does not deserve the other man. The cycle has been repeating since the day the captain armband was given to him. His relationship with his vice has always been black and white, with all the pushes and pulls, the tears and smiles, and he realizes how tiring it has been for both of them. They are both grown men now, and he thinks it is the time for him to stop pushing Bastian away, because the chances the other man holds him back are limited.

They pull apart for air, and Bastian is looking at him with heavy, loving eyes. The blonde leans on Philipp's shoulder, breaths tickling his ears, and Philipp can feel the fire within him that has not burnt for a long time. He wants Bastian, so much it hurts.

Schweini tilts his head to kiss on Philipp's neck and whispers, careful not to break the moment between them. "Fips…"

The word sounds so familiar and convincing to him.

He wraps his arms around the bigger man, clings onto him desperately, and whispers back. "Please, Basti."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He lets out a breathy moan, his hands tangle on Bastian's thick hair as the vice trails long kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his chest. The blonde just smiles when he flicks his tongue over one of Philipp's nipples, sucks on it playfully, and Philipp arches his body up to feel more contact. A hand travels past his stomach, teases his erect member, wet kisses on his skin, make Philipp moans get louder as he grips harder on Bastian's hair.

They start with a slow rhythm, faster after each thrust, and Philipp digs his nails to Bastian's back, hard enough to leave marks. He wants this moment to last, he wants Bastian to remember him when he is away, so he desperately hugs his lover, tries to keep him close, tries to feel him. Bastian's face hovers above his, eyes darken with lust and passion, and he puts his hand on the back of his lover's neck, pulls him down for a kiss, his gasps and moans are swallowed by his assistant's hungry lips.

When they both reach their climaxes together, it is a long, loving kiss pressed on his collarbone, a hand stroking him all the way through his orgasm, another hand wraps tightly around his waist, doesn't want to let him go, and the words "I love you" on his skin. He  
nods, his hands wrap around Bastian's neck, his body burns at the sensation.

They keep looking at each other's eyes for a long time after, Bastian's bright irises stare directly into his blue pools, waking up all those feelings that he has buried for a great amount of time. The taller man leans in to kiss on his forehead, those lips are warm on his cold skin, then pulls apart and smiles at him lovingly, no words needed to be said.  
Bastian is the first to stand up and rushes to the bathroom, and comes back with a wet cloth, hands carefully clean him up, and he just looks with awe, can't tear his gaze away.

He ends up lying on Bastian's broad chest, his hair in the other man's mouth, his hands put on Bastian's waist. His assistant just looks down at him, smiles warmly, pulls the covers up their bodies. Their bare skin touch under the covers, and Philipp runs his hand on Bastian's  
stomach as he kisses on the vice's chest.

"Let's get some sleep, Fips. You must be tired now." Soft voice whispers next to his ears.

He nods, closes his eyes, and whispers back. "I love you.”

He can feel Bastian smiling at him in the dark, before falling into a peaceful slumber.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

_“This is the final boarding call for passenger Philipp Lahm booked on flight … to New York City. Please proceed to gate 3 immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes time. I repeat. This is the final boarding call for Mr. Lahm. Thank you.”_

He listens to the announcement carefully and picks up his luggage, stands up from his waiting seat. Manuel and Thomas stand up along with him and hand him his papers.

“We will miss you a lot, Philipp. Call us when you arrive, okay?” Manu smiles to Philipp, pulls him into a tight hug, pats lightly on his back. Thomas grins silly at them, wraps his arms around the two older men.

“Thanks a lot, you two. I will miss you too.” Philipp smiles at the couple, takes in as many things about the boys as possible. It will be very long for both of them, and he wants to remember their faces by himself.

It’s emotional, but not as tragic as Philipp has imagined. He shakes hands with the guys the last time, before going through the gate.

Being alone with the flight attendants, his mind turns towards to the person who could not make it to say the final goodbye to him. Basti, oh Basti, he thinks to himself. Why can’t you be here with me for the last time? It’s not the last, but the feeling is killing him. He wonders why Basti has not come to him.

_“I’m sorry, Fips, something occurrs and I have to go and see. Have a safe flight, love._

_Basti x.”_

He sighs as he gets his luggage checked, tries to form a polite smile to the woman standing beside the metal detector. Munich, I don’t want to leave you. But still.

He gets on the plane – a really large plane, filled with people, finds his seat. Memories of the times he went with the team around the world, as a player and as a coach, flush back to him. He can smell the victory, the beers, he can hear the celebrations, the players chanting and singing, he can feel they lifting him up into the air, shouting his name. He can imagine voices of the fans around him.

Then the reality hits him, pulls him from his dream.

It is still the plane, but this is just him and him alone. Looking through the windows as he is going along the passenger seats, he looks at the scene outside the airport, his minds skipping spaces, before the flight attendant politely tells him to sit down.

That is when he notices a familiar spark of blonde right next to him.

His jaw drops.

“Wh… What? I mean, Basti?”

The other man just laughs and fixes his gaze on Philipp, stretching his body out. “You are late, Fips, I was a little worried about you.”

“But howthehellareyouhere? I mean, why are you here? God, Basti, this is so confusing!”

Bastian just looks at him lovingly, his hands come to rest on Philipp’s, his voice is soft right next to the coach’s ear. “You have always been ahead of me in everything, Fips. But I won’t let it happen this time.”

He does not know whether he is angry or not.

“Fips, let me be your assistant. Let me be there with you. Please.”

He does not know what to say. “But, Basti, your career…”

“No, Fips, I have talked to the Presidents of the club, and they all agreed that I should go with you. Fips, I have come all the way here, please don’t say no to me. Okay?”

Tears slide down his face as he buries his face into the assistant’s shoulder, crying softly.

_Yes, every friendship has its end._

But not his with Basti, not now.

Resting his head on his friend’s shoulder, he knows that he finds his home, his lighthouse in the stormy days.

Life was, is, and will be hard for him in the future, but he knows there is always someone there for him.

He closes his eyes, let himself fall into a dreamless slumber.

**The end.**


End file.
